You
by simplysarcastic
Summary: He can’t help but remember.


**Disclaimer:** Nothing belongs to me, excluding the plot and words.

**You**

I remember the last time you told me you loved me.

It was a late summer evening, mid-May, with the warm, dusky darkness approaching with every moment. You smelt like peaches and sandalwood and your lip-gloss tasted like freshly picked wild strawberries. Merlin, I miss those evening under the fading sky, where the only thing that mattered was you and I, the grass beneath us and wildflowers that smelt oh so sweetly.

We'd talk about everything, from what was on our minds at the current instant to our deepest, darkest secrets. It was as if what was spoken during those evenings didn't matter, that they remained therefor eternity.

I remember those tiny, insignificant details that I adored about you, which I still adore about you today. Your bright-red painted toenails, your tangled, knotted curls and how you loved pumpkin-spice pie, even though no one else did. What I would do to go back to yesterday, to be eighteen again. To kiss your overly-pink lips and press my hands against your warm flushed cheeks.

You were a goddess. Did I ever tell you that? No, scratch that, you still are a goddess. It's almost like you grow more beautiful with age, with each passing day, overcoming your beauty over and over again.

But, now, your name is Lily Potter and you're round with pregnancy and happiness. It's much too late to hold you in my arms and tell you that I love you, because those days are over.

Now, back to those sweltering evenings spent without a care. Each time I'd ask you, kiss your tiny little nose, and ponder if you'd ever understand what love really was. You'd always tell me you loved me, always giggle out the words, but you'd never comprehend the intensity of those words, the promises they held.

The sun that day was so bright, so vivid, and it played upon your hair, making the rich shades dance like sparks of flames, makingyour unadulterated beauty rival that of the setting sun. You never could see how beautiful you really were, with those wide, innocent eyes and childlike smile. You were my escape, my idyllic perfection.

"_Oh, come, Remmie, let's dance with the sun rays_," you'd laugh, propping up on your elbows and smiling at me. Everything about you danced, with a passionate love for everything that this earth was made from. We'd dance barefoot in the overgrown grass, laughing at our foolishness, laughing because at the moment, it seemed right.

You tasted like the world, the first time we kissed. It was a cold night, with a half-moon sneering at me eerily, while we made crowns from the flowers (or weeds) around us. You were shivering, dressed in only your uniform and thin stockings.

"_Let me warm you up, Remmie._" You whispered, with your eyes gleaming, cat-like, in the faint light of the moon. You told me it was your first kiss, after, told a dazed, confused me that I was the first boy she ever liked.

And the days turned into years, habits turned into traditions, hearts were fused together, only to be torn apart.

It was the last time you ever told me you cared.

The water was lapping at our bare feet, and you were laughing from the sensation. You kept crawling further in, eyes sparkling like the emeralds that you loved so dearly, until your unadorned black skirt was soaked. When you laughed like that, it felt like my world had stopped, as if something, anything, was hanging there in the air, suspended for the briefest moment before tumbling down.

"_Oh, Remmie, isn't it such a magnificent day?_" You'd whisper, as if not to disrupt the serenity of our surroundings. How desperately I wanted to kiss every single freckle that marched along the bridge of your nose and all that was spread proudly along your fair cheeks.

I'd agree, tracing the curve of your cheekbone, your lips, your jaw. Your everything. It all fascinated me, dulled my senses until all I could see, want, was you.

You'd come closer and closer to me, until I could see each freckle clearly, counting each small brown spot. Your breath smelt like the Droobles Best that you were chewing earlier and the white of your teeth gleamed though your parted lips. They looked like overripe cherries, though much softer in colour, and I wanted to kiss you.

But guilt overwhelmed me, and I instead looked away, breaking your gaze, and watching Sirius weave his charms around some exotically stunning Hufflepuff girl. Even as Sirius ran a steady hand along the girl's heart-shaped face, flicking away a strand of cornsilk-blond hair lovingly, I feel your small hand sneaking up my thigh, tracing it idly.

You loved being sexy, you defended yourself by claiming it was an interesting change, you loved being the girl described as a 'saucy minx'. I captured your hand in mine, tracing the long fingers with my shaky ones.

"_Why're you so upset, Remmie, darling_?" You asked, eyes gleaming with concern.

I told you.

I had to; it was torturing me with the memory of his fallen face, his sudden twist from pained to empty. He had jerked a hand through his messy, coal-black hair, squinting at me before leaving wordlessly. I knew the emotion that had been so glaringly displayed in his hazel eyes.

It had been absolute betrayal and disappointment.

It had hurt me in ways I wasn't accustomed to, being set free by my closest companion, the first to figure out what was wrong with me, the first to remedy it. He was steady, confident and determined, and I had broken him.

With a few foolish, stupid words, I had ruined my best friend beyond repair. I had accomplished the impossible, and I felt no pride in that.

"_Oh, Remmie, James Potter isn't worth it_." You whispered, but even I could see the blatant lie in your eyes.

James Potter was going to save the world one day or die trying. He was just that kind of person, the kind to overcome everything: losses, heartbreak and betrayal.

But I never thought I would be the one to cause it.

I held you in my arms, feeling tears of pity leak from my eyes. I felt pity for myself, for my greed, for my desperation. I had ruined so much, damaged my closest friends, because I couldn't let fate take its course. I told you that I didn't deserve you, that I was a liar, a thief, a murderer.

I confessed my sins, their enormity. I sobbed freely, clutching you nearer, then pushing you away. I told you that you shouldn't, you couldn't, love me. I was a monster, a traitor. You were too perfect for the likes of me.

"_Don't say those kinds of things, Remmie dearest, I'll always love you forever_." You said, jutting your chin stubbornly, wrapping your arms around me firmer, harder.

And the saddest thing of all was that I believed you.

**.xx.**

I noticed the little things at first, how your eyes roamed his body when he passed us in the hallways, the tone of voice you used when we were talking about him. Those tiny, insignificant details that started the entire mess.

"_There goes James Potter_," You'd whisper, eyes almost feverish. "_Maybe you should go talk to him, Remmie, love_."

I'd shake my head, reject your suggestion. You didn't know half of what went on behind you back, and I would never tell you. There are some things that are better off left alone. I'd instead lace my fingers with yours, pulling you along with me, revelling in everything about you.

Then you started talking about him, much more than usual. It wasn't your typical complaints and sharp insults, but a dreamy sort of revelation. You'd finger that gold-chain necklace with a small diamond and emerald lily as you explained that you'll never understand why he was so… changed.

Every single conversation, I grew more and more wary. I knew, somewhere in the depths of my mind, that this was the beginning of our explosive finale. But I'd hold on tighter, my whispers would grow softer and longer, I'd try to hold on as long as I could.

One night, you kissed him.

I witnessed, I know that you don'tknow that, when he glared at you, pushing you away as you told him that he needed to reconcile with me. I saw your eyes flash with fury, I saw you step on his foot angrily. I heard him swear under his breath as he lost his temper and I heard his heated confession.

The picture that stays in my mind the clearest is your face when he finished coming clean. And then, you kissed him. It was nothing like what we shared.

It was hot, needy andlustful. The most beautiful display of human emotions I have ever seen. Even I, your jaded ex-lover, can admit it freely. You held onto each other as if the world was going to end, as if you were the only two that existed on this earth.

After, as you stared into each others eyes, breathing deeply, foreheads pressed together, I left.

I admit it, I cried. I knew you loved him and he loved you, and I was just a part of theyour's and hiscolourful past. I wouldn't fight for you, for it would be a lost cause.

Did you know that even then, I still loved you?

**.xx.**

Graduation. I was finally leaving it all behind, the empty nights spent thinking about you. The nights when I had you, locked in my arms, your whispers in my ear. The times when I cried over everything, the times when I cried because there was nothing left to do. Those long, pained nights spent in The Shrieking Shack, my personal inferno, praying to a God I wasn't sure existed anymore.

But, most of all, I regretted that you and I had ended. The clearest, the happiest memories were of you and I, and our wildflowers, and the sweet-smelling grass. When I danced with you, when I kissed you, when we gave ourselves to each other, believing that this would be the way the story would end.

Alas, fairytale endings just weren't for you and I. There would be no glided gold carriage, no red roses, no cheerful nights beside the fire, watching our children argue and fret. There was a you and him, the paperback novel favourites, the feisty, saucy duo with wicked gleams in your eyes. The type of couple that could do anything, if they set their minds to it. The Head Boy and Head Girl. The smartest, the sharpest, the most sincere from us all.

It was a match made in heaven.

And I was no one to interfere.

**.xx.**

Your spell wound around me; muffling everything I once thought to be right to twist and tangle, ripping me apart with everything about you. All of it tore me into pieces, your innocence, your luminous beauty, your pure, simple outlook on life. You were my sun, my world, my everything, for so many years, for so long.

Then he swept you away. It would happen eventually, I knew that from the start, how could it have not? He was Quidditch Captain, Head Boy, well-liked and horribly popular. He had all the lines, all the suave moves; he was everything I knew nothing about.

You loved him. You still love him, more than anything. I can see it as clearly as it was just yesterday, when you danced with him under the waning moon, clutching onto him as if he was keeping you grounded. I can remember your contentment with him, when there was no one in the world except for you and him.

Nothin mattered when you were in his arms, is that the way it was? And the past is so alike today, as I watch the both of you, flushed with glee, dancing to the music coming from your muggle stereo.

It's Christmas, and sitting here on _your_ sofa, eating _your_ popcorn, watching you dance with your husband in the dim lighting, I can't help but say that I wish I were him. You're so in love with everything about him, you forget how much we shared, how much we lived through.

And I want to kiss you so badly, that it burns a hole in my heart, black and sinister, empty and lonely. I'm nothing without you, I've realized, I'm nothing but a filthy, heartless werewolf.

**.xx.**

The girl, she can't be older than seventeen, looks at me, her generous lips inviting me for a sip. The Jack Daniels and I have long before built up the courage. I dance with her, not bothering for a name, for anything. Even as I dance, pressing my hips against her, meshing my hands around her slender neck, I think about you. She doesn't have flamboyant red hair; her hair is long and brown, thick with a tantalizing gleam.

The music grows louder and harder, the dances become hotter and closer. Her tight jeans are stuck to her skin, and all I want to do is peel them off. But you. Hazel eyes watch me, her full red lips are mashed against mine, and her perfume suffocates me.

I wish it were your eyes. I wish it were your lips, your smile, your heady scent. Merlin, how much I wish it was your swishy skirts and loose blouses, rather than the skin-tight jeans and belly-revealing shirts.

And still as the evening draws to the end, and as I collapse on the filthy white sheets of a seedy hotel bed, breathing in her lavender perfume. Even as I suck and kiss her tanned, smooth skin and hear her breathy moans, I think about you, I yearn after you.

Her jutted hips thrust against mine, her long lashes flutter dreamily, and her hair rustles behind her back. As I listen to her whimper, hear mine intermingle with hers; the passion only lasting for a few meagre minutes before reality comes crashing down.

Tired out, she collapses against me, toned long legs still tangled around my waist, her breathing slowing. I bury my face in her hair, trying to lull myself to dreamless sleep. Maybe tonight I'll be able to sleep…

But you're already here.

You always will be.

**.xx.**

_Heh. My first actual try at angst. I know, I know, Kiss is sort of lagging behind, but… meh. I've always loved the idea of unrequited love, and Remus happens to be my victim… ehem… volunteer. Dedicated to Sarah, who's too stellar for me not to dedicate it to her._

**So, what'd you think?**


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